


Santa Baby

by wholockedpsycho7



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, because let's be honest everyone squealed a little, hint of angst actually, inspired by Alex Kingston in a Santa cloak, it's a little fluffy, ok fine more than a hint but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholockedpsycho7/pseuds/wholockedpsycho7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The woman turns, and he can't quite see her face. He's about to begin the wonderful speech he had prepared about how he was actually here to help and not from one of the king's patrols-but she lowers her hood before he gets the chance.</p><p>The shadows had covered her face, but now-now there's no missing it. He'd know those curls anywhere.</p><p>His mouth goes dry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm not going to pretend that this holds a candle to any of the brilliant fics I've seen so far.... but it was something I threw together in celebration instead of re-watching the trailers 60 times and squealing at the time. (Though I did that too).
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

He's led to Her, the one they're all talking about. The leader of this little rogue gang fleeing from Hydraflax and-If he must say-who did a wonderful job taking down his regime. Well, wonderful attempt. The kingdom was definitely crippled, and the corrupt royal line that had been in charge never rose to power again.

The Woman is dressed in a red cloak- a Santa cloak, actually, with white trim and low hood. He can't say he's pleased- the last time he saw one he was with Clara and- he stops himself. No thinking about Clara. Not on Christmas.

The woman turns, and he can't quite see her face. He's about to begin the wonderful speech he had prepared about how he was actually here to help and not from one of the king's patrols-but she lowers her hood before he gets the chance.

The shadows had covered her face, but now-now there's no missing it. He'd know those curls anywhere.

His mouth goes dry.

"Caught snooping around the perimeter, you said?" She asks the two men who brought him, looking him up and down as she circles around.

She looks no different- it's freezing out, but her face still has that golden glow, even with the red tinting her cheeks. His eyes run over her greedily, taking in the face he's dreamed of for over a millennia- the green eyes sparkling at him, her father's nose slightly red- must have a cold, he notes. He can't believe he'd almost forgotten that bump.

"Yes, ma'am. He was breaking into the base."

She stops abruptly. "Well, you know what we do with the king's men. Throw him in a cell," She waves her hand dismissively and turns on her heel.

It's this order that snaps him out of his daze. "You bad girl," his voice is much lower than he intends, but it has the desired effect.

She stiffens, and turns. "Excuse me?"

Oh, he likes that.

"What'd you do this time, hm? You were the one who posed as his fiancé to get to him and take it all down from the inside, yes?"

She gives him a curious, almost calculating look. "Who wants to know?"

"Oh, honey," he's grinning, he knows, and if he knows his wife, she's getting angry (she's never let anyone else call her a pet name),  "that's not really how it works."

"Isn't it?" She moves closer to him. "I do have you handcuffed and about to be locked up. You want to talk? How about a name?"

He pretends to think a moment. "Which one? There's River Song, Melody Pond, Melody Williams, Melody Malone-one of my favorites, and let's not forget-"

And he's on the ground. Really, he should've seen this coming.

A gun is pressed to his temple, and though her eyes are burning with fury and she looks like she wouldn't have any problems squeezing the trigger, she's also pressed against him and warm and _alive_ , quite frankly it's been a millennia and he misses his _wife_.

And that flushed face is incredibly sexy when she's angry.

It's a little bit of both that causes him to surge up, pressing his chapped lips against her soft ones and digging his handcuffs into his stomach. For a moment she's still, not comprehending it, but then-

There's the slap. 

It stings-she has a hell of an arm- but all he can do is smirk.

Because while it was painful, cold metal had pressed into his cheek.

A ring-the one he gave her, on her left hand, proclaiming her unavailability and attachment.

"I should kill you," she hisses at him, "I've killed men for less."

When he doesn't respond, she makes a growling noise in the back of her throat and stands, gun once again aimed at his head. "I'm giving you one chance to tell me your source of information on me before I blow your brains out. 5 seconds. Five, four, three-" she cocks the hammer back, "two, -"

It's then that he realizes she's serious. "Okay, sorry! Wait! I'll tell you!"

She stills, arching an eyebrow.

He holds up his restrained hands. "I'm a married man."

"Congratulations," She says dryly, "and I'm a married woman. Is that where you got it from? What does this have to do with the conversation?"

He sits up, pursing his lips. "Look at my ring, dear."

"What-" She's confused, glancing at his hand.

"Ask one of your little toys to get it if you're too scared to get it yourself."

She scowls at him, then leans down and jerks his hand up to take it off.

She straightens and examines it quietly, turning it over in her hands.

A second later it falls to the ground.

Her voice is cold, low. And furious. "This is sick."

His eyebrows crinkle. It's not the reaction he was expecting. "What?"

"You think you have the _right_ -" She takes a deep breath. "You know what, I'll deal with you later. I have a battle to plan." She leans down and picks the ring up, pocketing it. "Throw him in one of the cells in block A. Doesn't need to be comfy, either. No food. Just water."

He can't believe what he's hearing. "What? River! It's me!" He yells as she walks away. "What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your-" A solid sock to the face silences him.

\-------  
He doesn't see his wife for two days. In that time, he comes up with six escape plans, 4 new ideas on how to improve his sonic-which was in his coat that was taken, and plays chess in his head at least a hundred times.

True to her word, there is water, but no food. It doesn't really bug him, he's gone longer without it, but the idea that she's punishing him in this way is agonizing.

So during his imprisonment he also comes up with 3 apology speeches.

The click of heels drags him out of yet another chess game in his mind.

She walks up to the other side of the bars and observes him silently.

He frowns. "I'm not an animal, you know. I do talk and things."

Nothing.

The Doctor rolls his eyes. "You always have had the flair for dramatics. I can't say much about it of course, I do too, but honestly, you could talk so I could apologize for whatever I did that has you so damned angry."

Her lips tighten before she speaks. "Angry? That doesn't cover it very well."

"Pray tell."

Her eyes burn holes in his skin. "You think you- some random, sick old man, can just saunter in with my husband's things- God knows where you got them- and _claim_ me or something?"

His eyebrows furrow. "River-"

She puts a hand up. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're not my husband. I think I'd know."

"I'd think you would too."

"No- stop it! Stop, now." She bites her lip. "You can't just- stop. I knew I should've shot you," she takes a deep breath. "Look, I don't know where, or how you got his ring, or his jacket, but rest assured you will be held accountable for all this. I have connections, and I'll see to it that you-"

"Oh my God." He stands, running a hand through his hair. "You really can't tell." He pinches the bridge of his nose, and shakes his head. "Honestly, River-"

"Don't think I still won't shoot you just because you're behind bars." Her voice is dark and threatening, and for the first time, he's actually a little frightened.

"Listen to me." He goes up beside the bars, looking her in the eye. "I've regenerated, and I know it's different, that it doesn't look like me, but I swear-"

" I said _stop_!" Her face is red. "He didn't have any more regenerations! He was on his last one, he died on Trenzalore, and he was buried. That's _it_! I'm tired of the stupid, sick games you people play to get to me, to my family. Yes, I still see him now and again, and yes, I've also accepted that he's dead. I know my husband, and believe me I would be able to _tell_ if he was in front of me!"

It hurts. His wife has always known him-always. He never thought there'd be a time when she wouldn't- she was River bloody Song. She knew everything about him. He'd never even considered that she still thought he was gone, and wouldn't recognize this face.

She takes a few deep breaths. "I'll arrange for some food and a transfer. Have fun in prison, or wherever they take you." She turns to leave, and he suddenly becomes desperate, so desperate, for her to know him, to recognize him, to hold him. Without thinking, he blurts out the one thing he never told anyone else, in all of his 2000 plus years.

She gasps and her eyes widen.

He plunges in. No turning back now. "I told you that on our honeymoon. We went to Duna in the 41st century, and I ate so much pineapple I was sick. We went diving in the Orange Sea, saw the natives, and you kicked a patrolman's arse because he startled you. We watched the sky, and had a picnic, and that night we made love under the stars. I told you my name then, and we went back to the TARDIS." He pauses. "Your favorite color is blue, and you love your parents more than anything. You are horrid at cooking, you sleep with your socks on, and you never take baths." He lists off these facts, hidden gems he didn't even know he knew, tucked away in a corner of his mind he'd long since shut the door on, thinking it'd never be opened again.

He walks closer to the bars, until his nose is inches from hers and he can see her wide eyes. "You need two blankets at night. You wanted a horse when you were a kid. You drink your tea with, quite frankly, a ridiculous amount of sugar and don't sleep much because of the dreams."

She's looking at him with that softened, loving gaze of hers, and while he wants to see how much of his face he can fit in between the metal to get closer to hers, he isn't done talking.

"You loved me that day after Berlin, even if you pretended other men could keep up with you in university just to drive me insane. You insisted on a gun room connecting to our bedroom. When I said no, you left and I found out the TARDIS had put one there anyway. You have a tendency towards violence, but are good with children. And when I asked, you wouldn't answer. You sleep in my old t-shirts.  You have a tendency to watch crap telly on Monday nights.

"The point I'm trying to make, River Song, is that I know more about you than anyone else in this universe and if you think for one second that I'm not the man you married, you're an idiot."

She's backed up, and is shaking her head as red rimmed eyes gaze into his.

He finally realizes he's crying too, shaking his head quickly and wiping it off. "If you don't let me out of this cell now, I'll have you know that I'll be quite cross."

She half laughs, half cries, and finally moves, unlocking the door and rushing to him, throwing her arms around him.

He buries his hand in her hair and  
pulls her tight to him. "I'll be needing that ring back now, if you don't mind."


End file.
